


Relative Reasoning

by Triscribe



Series: What-If Star Wars AUs [8]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bounty Hunters, Family, Family Bonding, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Mandalorian Culture, Mando'a, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, Young Ezra Bridger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26083099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triscribe/pseuds/Triscribe
Summary: An AU in which Mira Bridger was originally a Fett.
Series: What-If Star Wars AUs [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788598
Comments: 14
Kudos: 212





	1. Color of Midnight

_Tell me is the color of midnight, different than the color of the sun_

Jango smiled as his children raced through their quarters, giggling and pretending to be a bounty hunter chasing her target.

“You no catch me!” Boba yelled, toddling along as fast as he could.

“Oh yes I will!” Mira called back, ducking around a table so as to surprise him. The three year old shrieked with delight, trying to avoid his big sister only to get caught by her anyways. A tickle attack started up then, which just served to make Jango grin even wider.

Insisting that the Kaminoans give him a clone son as part of his payment was one of the best ideas Jango ever had. After his wife’s death, he’d not been able to spend as much time with Mira as he ought, and knew that the little girl suffered for it. A baby brother, though, had been just the right thing to cause her to liven up again.

His world was dangerous, and only getting more so with every passing year. Having such a scene to come home to helped, and knowing that his two children could always rely on each other eased some of the strain in Jango’s heart.

No matter what happened, Mira and Boba would have one another.

-RR-

“No.”

“But Mira-”

 _“No,_ Boba. I don’t want anything to do with revenge - it’s pointless and will only get us killed, same as- same as Dad.” Despite the tears slipping down her face, the teen was glaring down at her little brother with a fierce determination. “He wouldn’t want us to put ourselves in harm’s way just to take down a stupid Jedi.”

Boba glared back. “You’re just being a coward! A stupid, cowardly chakaar!”

“It’s not cowardly if I’m making a choice that will keep us both alive!”

“You can’t make that choice for me - if you won’t help me kill Windu, I’ll go find allies who will!”

With that, the younger Fett stormed off, back towards the Slave I. Mira nearly took a step after him- but she stopped. Scrubbed angrily at her face. And when her tears were gone, the teenager picked up her knapsack of supplies, and headed deeper into the spaceport.

It was the last time they spoke to one another for five years.

-RR-

Even with the extermination of the Jedi and the rise of the Empire, Boba didn’t think he’d ever be contacted by his sister again; and yet, one morning there was a recorded message from her waiting on his comm console. How Mira got his contact information was a mystery; especially considering she’d hidden herself well enough from the war that even Boba hadn’t found her - not that he’d ever looked especially hard, admittedly.

So, it was with great trepidation that he opened up the message, and upon seeing a single holo learned three things about his big sister in an instant:

She was a grown woman. She was a grown, _married_ woman. She was a grown, married woman with a house, husband and child all her own. There were a few words included with the picture: an address, for a home in the Lothal system. Boba stared at them for a few hours.

Then he sent a return message, asking for the best time to visit.

-RR-

“Okay, I’ll admit it,” Boba sighed when he handed the giggling Ezra back to the infant’s mother. “He’s adorable.”

Mira beamed at his words. “See, I knew becoming a tough-as-duracrete bounty hunter couldn’t have _completely_ desensitized you to cute things.”

“It’s desensitized me to _unpleasant_ things. Cuteness just seems amplified now.” Smirking as he got his big sister to laugh, Boba allowed his gaze to once again inspect the living room they were in.

Decently furnished for a house in the cheaper part of town, with enough knickknacks and holo-projections present to firmly identify it as a family home, the place was cozy, inviting. A stack of datapads rested on the center table, brought from Mira’s job while she continued to work from home for another couple months. Some toys were close at hand, as well: a few that Ezra was currently able to play with, along with others he’d have to grow a bit bigger before receiving.

Battle-scarred beskar armor would’ve been horribly out of place. Thankfully, Boba had come in civilian clothing, blaster and vibro-knives hidden beneath.

Clearing his throat, the seventeen year old waited until he had his sister’s full attention. “Ori’vod, tion gar briikase?”

She blinked, startled by his use of Mando’a, but then smiled at what it signified. “Yes, vod’ika. I’m happy here. Ephraim is good to me, to us, and I love him dearly.”

“Alright then.” Boba nodded firmly. “As long as he continues to, I won’t have to do anything unpleasant to him.”

“You’d better not!”

Even so, through the course of dinner that evening, Boba did his best to keep Ephraim Bridger off guard. The man treated him warily, with respect as Mira’s beloved brother, but held his ground when not-so-subtly belittled or threatened. That he never shrank under the intimidation earned him a measure of Boba’s respect, though the teen himself earned more than a few warning looks from his big sister. Ezra simply slept through it all.

By the time he had to leave the next morning, Boba was resolved to send some of his profits every month to the little family - because even if he only grudgingly liked one of them, the other two were very dear to his heart.

-RR-

Over the course of the next several years, the pair of Fett siblings kept up their correspondence, even when visits weren’t possible. Ezra grew up adoring his Uncle Boba, always eager to see what trinkets the man brought or sent him. Mira would simply roll her eyes at her brother’s insistence on spoiling the boy, while Ephraim would try (often without success) to hide his alarm at some of the more dangerous gifts.

The only true point of contention that remained between brother and sister was the matter of Ezra’s instruction in his Mandalorian heritage. His mother remained adamant that the kid would not grow up to be a warrior, while his uncle insisted that it wouldn’t hurt to at least pass on some basic self-defense skills. Boba would, at the very least, try to sneak some cultural lessons in when he visited, and despite Mira’s disapproval, her son inevitably learned quite a few words in Mando’a, including some of the rather more colorful curses and insults. She reluctantly let her brother have that little victory, as it was one of the few things that both her only remaining blood kin could joyfully bond over. After all, Mira would still have occasional nightmares from the years of the war, when she was alone in the galaxy, no father or brother or anyone else by her side until meeting Ephraim. Her greatest fear was that Ezra would experience the same some day.

A few lessons on language and history could be overlooked if it meant her fear was quieted for a while.

The greatest _joint_ fear between her and Ephraim, however, was directed towards the Empire and all it stood for: the powerful trampling over the weak, the poor losing more and more to the wealthy... the extermination of the Jedi.

They’d never openly spoken of it, much less shared anything with Boba, but both the Bridgers highly suspected their son was Force-sensitive. When he was an infant, toys left on the other side of the room would inexplicably wind up within Ezra’s grasp. He picked up new words and their meanings almost instantly, far beyond what was typical for a toddler. And once, when he was six, he’d not only managed to nimbly climb up to the top of their roof, but then jumped back down the full distance with hardly a bump or bruise to show for it.

All of this fueled their conviction to keep up the secret broadcasts, to keep a light burning in the darkness. Up until the day the stormtroopers arrived.

Giving him only a few murmured assurances, Mira ushered her seven year old son down into their hidden basement, extracting a promise that he’d stay put no matter what. Then she and Ephraim sealed up the hidden entrance, turning to face the front door just as it was forced open.

That was the last time either of them saw their Ezra. And though he hadn’t known it at the time, Boba’s visit only a few months before was the last he’d ever see his sister alive.


	2. Bottomless Ocean

_Is the bottomless ocean deeper than the heavens above_

Boba frowned.

Lothal’s capital appeared... different. Less energetic, somehow. The people didn’t seem as eager to go about their business, and what businesses were open definitely had fewer goods than when he’d last visited, the better part of a year ago.

Eventually dismissing it as simply the Empire tightening its grip, Boba kept on towards his destination. It had been too long since he’d been able to speak with his sister or play with his nephew, and the man felt eager to get his surprise visit underway. Hurrying around a street corner, he looked ahead to where the Bridger household sat.

And skidded to a shocked halt.

The house was sealed up, covered in warning signs marked by the Imperial insignia. Others who walked past averted their gazes, as if the building didn’t exist. In a daze, Boba went up to it, resting a hand on one boarded up window.

“Wouldn’t bother knocking if I were you, laddie,” said an old woman, stepping out of the next house over. “They’ve been gone for a long while now, since the last high heat season.”

“Wh-” Boba cleared his throat. “What happened?”

Hesitating, the woman looked around the area before approaching him. “Arrested,” she whispered. “Him and the missus. Erased from the records and taken away.”

“What about their son?”

His informer had to shrug. “Vanished. Not taken with them, but he didn’t stick around here, either. Now, you have a lovely day!” Raising her voice as she stepped away, the woman gave him a sympathetic gaze. “Glory to the Empire!”

“Glory to the Empire...” Briefly closing his eyes, Boba wondered what trouble his sister had gotten into that caused her and Ephraim to be arrested. Then he wondered if they weren’t framed for something, or had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time...

Growling at himself, the man went around to the back of the house, where he broke in through one of the windows. Stalking through the empty, dust-filled home, he headed upstairs, eyes peeled for anything in the way of clues.

Nothing was missing, as far as he could tell. Then Boba reached Ezra’s bedroom, and found the message.

A tusk taken from one of his earliest bounties was no longer in its place of pride on the boy’s desk, but had been moved to sit atop a datapad on his lowest storage shelf. Crouching beside it, Boba moved the tusk, and activated the pad to reveal a few short lines of script written in Mando’a. Translated, it read:

_Uncle,  
Momma and Daddy are gone. They told me to hide in the basement, but it’s been three days and I don’t know if they’ll ever come back. I can’t stay here.  
If you find this look for me at the old tower we turned into a fort that one time, okay?  
Ezra_

Boba set the datapad back down, frowning. He knew exactly what his nephew was referring to: an old communications tower about six miles north of the city, abandoned except for wild loth-cats in the lower levels and dive-birds in the upper ones.

Unfortunately, while it had been fine for an afternoon of make-believe adventures, the tower was in no condition to serve as a home base. Temporary base, possibly, but if the neighbor was right, Ezra had left this message behind six months before.

Part of Boba insisted the boy was still alive - he’d been born half a Fett, after all, and their family didn’t get taken out by anything less than open combat. Another part of him was dreading what he might find in that tower.

Still, if... If Ezra _was_ dead, then he deserved a proper funeral. Boba hadn’t been able to give one to his father, nor did he think he’d get to provide one for his arrested sister, but it was the least he could do for an innocent little boy thrown to the wilds without a clue why.

Half an hour later saw the bounty hunter headed out on a rented speeder, taking a circuitous route to the tower in case anyone tried to follow him. Once satisfied he was alone, Boba looped around to reach it, and soon pulled up at the base of the tall structure. He’d only just gotten off the speeder and taken a few steps towards the door when it was shoved open.

Automatically, the man grabbed for his blaster, but released it again almost as quickly when a short, blue-haired form plowed into him.

“Ba’vodu Boba! You came!”

“‘Course I did, adiik,” the bounty hunter replied, grinning in relief as he clutched the kid closer. When Ezra took a half-step back from their embrace, Boba was able to get a good look at him, and struggled to keep the growing fury from showing on his face. The boy, his nephew, was practically skin and bones, wearing clothes with more badly mended holes than those of a streetside beggar. There were new scars on his hands, a cut and bruise on his face, and more than enough collected grime to indicate he’d not had a bath anytime remotely recently.

He’d been taking care of himself. Surviving

But while survival was good, no eight year old should be required to look after themselves - they just weren’t ready for such responsibility.

“Ezra,” Boba said, crouching to be eye-level with the kid. “What happened?”

Instantly, the excitement in those bright blue eyes faded, replaced with a deep sadness Boba could easily recognize. “I don’t know. They just- someone was banging on the door, and Momma told me to stay in the basement, but when I ran out of water I came back up and she and Daddy were just gone.”

Boba sighed, and pulled the boy back into another hug. “Okay. We’ll try investigating later, then. Right now, I’m going to bring you back to my ship with me - you want food or a bath first?”

Ezra’s nose scrunched up as he thought about it. “I dunno. Both are good, though.”

“Yeah, they are. We’ll decide when we get there, then. Come on, up you get.” He hoisted his nephew onto the speeder before taking a seat behind him.

“What about my stuff, Ba’vodu?”

“We’ll come back for it later, I promise, when we’re on our way to Pammant.”

As the speeder started up, Ezra twisted around to look up at him in surprise. “Pammant? Isn’t that the planet where you keep your extra bounty hunter supplies?”

Boba smiled. “Yep. Gotta get you outfitted with some proper weapons, after all.” Along with new clothes, armor, and as many permanent tracking devices as possible. With Mira and Ephraim unaccounted for, Boba knew he’d just become responsible for looking after Ezra, which meant doing everything possible to make sure he never lost the kid in any sense of the word.


	3. Until I've Won

_No matter what’s in front of me, I’ll keep fighting till I’ve won_

Biting back a curse, Ezra swerved and threw himself behind a heavy durasteel desk, and nearly crashed headlong into the other Mandalorian already hiding behind it.

“Hey!” The girl in front of him snapped, “Go find your own cover, I was here first!”

“Would love to, but I’d be in a _worse_ load of trouble if I got myself shot trying for another spot,” Ezra scoffed back. He yanked a flash bomb from his satchel, hit the button, and blindly tossed it back the way he’d come. _Three, two-_ Bright light flared, and both he and the mystery Mando straightened up enough to shoot over the top of the desk. Several screams of pain rang out before return fire zipped their way, and the pair ducked down once more as the flare started to fade.

“Worse trouble than _this?”_ The girl beside him asked in disbelief. And, yes, Ezra could understand why - the target they’d both wound up hunting had apparently surrounded himself with a small private army, made up of actually decent warriors rather than the usual cannon fodder.

But there was a much scarier warrior who’d be kicking Ezra’s shebs if he got hurt, after begging for _days_ to get to bring in a mark by himself.

Any further comments he could’ve made got cut off by something heavy impacting the desk behind them, followed by a rapid beeping. Ezra and the other Mandalorian didn’t waste time scrambling away as quickly as they could. The explosion still managed to toss both of them off their feet, regardless, and Ezra heard a distinct _crack_ right before his helmed head collided with a wall.

-RR-

“-id? Hey, kid, anytime you wanna wake up would be just fine by me.” Ezra groaned, squeezing his eyes more tightly shut. “Oh, good, su cuy’gar.”

“Yeah, I’m alive,” he muttered back, reluctantly blinking his eyes open. No tinted view-lense or holographic display met his gaze, prompting another groan - because if they’d taken his helmet, then the lack of life signals to monitor had tripped an alarm back on _Slave I,_ and he would _really_ be in for it. “What about you?”

“In one piece, more or less. But the bastards won’t give me a medkit.” Frowning, Ezra turned his head enough to look at the other Mando. The first thing he noticed was her hair: brightly colored in two contrasting hues of pink and gold. Then he realized her face was scrunched up in pain, and that one hand tightly gripped her opposite forearm.

“Broken?” Ezra asked, carefully pushing himself upright, only to halt as the world spun.

“Unfortunately. Not the worst break I’ve ever had, but it still hurts like haran.” She squinted at him from the other side of the empty closet they’d been dumped into. “Did that knock to the head give you a concussion or what?”

“Dunno. Just, give me a minute.” Once he could see straight, Ezra pushed himself back to lean against a wall. He took a few deep breaths before meeting the girl’s gaze again. “You manage to hang on to any weapons?”

“No. They even took my boots. You?”

A brief glance informed Ezra of his missing gloves, belt, satchel, and boots, all of which had held or carried his blasters, bombs, and knives. Lifting a hand, though, he checked under his left shoulder pauldron, and found his homemade multitool, complete with a tiny blade and lock pick. He pulled it out to show her, and the girl’s eyes lit up.

“I have _so_ got to remember that hiding place,” she grinned. “Think you can get the door open with that thing?”

“Sure, if I can stand up long enough.” Gritting his teeth, Ezra slowly started to push himself upright, using the wall as a brace. Just as he managed to get both feet under himself, though, a nearby explosion rattled the closet, and sent him crashing back down. _“Osik!”_

“Here.” The other Mando scooted over, turning to situate herself beside him. Ezra grabbed onto her shoulder, the one _not_ connected to a broken arm, and together the two of them succeeded in standing up. No further explosions shook the walls, but a growing amount of shouting and blaster fire seemed to be headed their way through the sealed door. “Sounds like we’ve got more competition.”

“I- don’t think so,” Ezra muttered, listening intently. Sure enough, he caught the faint yet distinctive sound of a flamethrower in action. “Remember that load of worse trouble I mentioned earlier?”

Shots erupted just outside the closet door, causing them to flinch away from it. Return fire rang out, followed by a loud whistling sound and several mini-explosions, and then it all fell quiet.

“Right,” the girl said grimly, adjusting her position to be square in-between Ezra and the door. “I’ll rush ‘em, and if you get a chance to use that multitool’s knife, stab and run.”

“Wait, what?” Ezra scowled at the back of her head. “Why are _you_ trying to protect _me?_ You’re the one with a broken arm!”

“Yeah, but I’m older.” She flashed a brief smirk over her shoulder, before focusing back on the door as the lock started to melt from the other side. There was a _lot_ Ezra could spit back in reply to _that_ statement, but he’d also become ninety percent certain just who was breaking into their makeshift prison, in which case there wasn’t any point trying to argue with the taller teen.

Sure enough, when the door panel slid aside, it revealed a familiar figure in grey and green armor, a singularly unimpressed air emanating from him. The girl stiffened in surprise, and Ezra sighed, taking a half step out from behind her. “Hey, Ba’vodu.”

-RR-

Sabine could admit, if it weren’t for the sheer overriding shock of suddenly learning notorious Mandalorian bounty hunter _Boba Fett_ had a nephew practically her own age, she wouldn’t have followed the pair out of the rather charred remains of her target’s hideout. As it stood, Fett managed to locate the crate that her gear and the kid’s had gotten dumped into, and he even offered use of their ship’s medical supplies, which would undoubtedly be of higher quality than the meager medkit at Sabine’s own current place.

He and the kid argued back and forth the entire way there, complaining by turns that _you’re always getting into trouble_ and _it wasn’t even my fault this time!_ Even so, however, Fett kept the kid within arm’s reach, constantly looking him up and down, dropping a hand to briefly rest on his head or shoulder every now and then. Something about the familiar motions made a back corner of Sabine’s heart twinge uncomfortably.

The three of them eventually arrived at a sheltered crevice in the mountains overlooking the rather scorched base, and tucked inside with inches to spare was Fett’s ship. He took a minute to power-down whatever booby traps surely protected the thing, his nephew gradually leaning further and further into him. Once the gangway did finally come down, Fett wound up needing to wrap an arm around the kid’s shoulders just to keep him upright.

“Second compartment, on the right,” the man called to Sabine as she traipsed up the ramp after them. “Bring the whole thing over here.”

She checked the storage space he indicated, and sure enough, found a medkit bigger than her artist satchel. Fett led the way to a partitioned room with enough seating for all of them, where he carefully eased his nephew down. Sabine offered the kit. He took it and unlocked the latches, before nudging it back in her direction, swiping only a penlight and some painkillers.

“Quit fussing,” Fett chided, as his kid tried to squirm away from the light being shined in his eyes. “I swear, you put up a bigger stink about ignoring injuries than your mother ever did.”

“Is that surprising?”

“No, but it’s _frustrating._ Here.” He practically forced the painkillers into his nephew’s hand, and didn’t back off until the kid swallowed them. _“Thank_ you, brat.”

Then he turned his attention to Sabine. She straightened automatically, and nearly dropped the boneknitter balanced precariously on her knees. Fett huffed and muttered something unintelligible, before shifting closer to hold it steady for her.

“...Thanks,” Sabine mumbled, gradually letting her muscles relax.

“Welcome,” he grunted back. “What’s your name?”

“Sabine. Sabine Wren.”

Fett hummed. “I’m Boba, and that’s Ezra. You out here on your own, Wren?”

“Yeah. I work alone.” She tried not to let the pain of that statement leak out, but somehow Fett seemed to pick up on it anyway.

“Family, or a friend?”

“...friend. She decided to stop being partners.”

Another hum. “My sister did the same, once. Took years before we reconnected.” He reached back into the medkit, and pulled out another couple of painkiller tablets to offer her. “It’s rough, in the meantime.”

Sabine huffed. “No kidding. I’m used to having a sniper watch my six, but now-”

“-you’re constantly looking over your shoulder,” Fett finished dryly. His nephew, Ezra, mumbled something from the other seat, sinking down low as he drifted off to sleep. “Granted, I’d say it’s worse to be looking around to make sure the damn brat didn’t follow you into a job.”

That got a snort out of her. “Yeah, I bet. He seems like the problem causing type.”

“Now that’s an understatement,” Fett growled. He paused for a moment, staring at the kid and rubbing a thumb against the whirring boneknitter. “You got a ship of your own, Wren?”

Another stab of pain, which she did better at ignoring. “Not anymore.”

“We’ve got enough room for a third cot. And I could use an extra pair of hands on a job next week; Mirialan smuggler I’m tracking found herself some heavily armored friends in the Grumani Sector.”

“Yeah?” Sabine relaxed a little further. “What kinds of friends?”


End file.
